Shallow Seas
by ncfan
Summary: Out of everything Lin had forgotten, there was one thing she remembered and one thing she wished she didn't remember.


Lin, and what I think was probably a pretty complicated relationship with Haku, fascinated me every time I watched this movie.

Disclaimer: I don't own Spirited Away.

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The night was muggy and fresh with rain, and as the little pinpricks of light spread out over the shallow sea Lin stared at the train as it went further and further away, sending up little waves of fresh, clear water as it went.

The other girls were all still inside; Sen's departure to Zeniba meant nothing to them. If anything, most of them were relieved that she was gone; the bathhouse was a cutthroat world for all its glittering surfaces, and a new face was always treated with scorn and an utter lack of charity or kindness. It was how it had been for Lin when she had first showed up at the bathhouse so many years ago, and she supposed that it was only because she was human that she didn't treat Sen with the same unkindness that most of the rest did.

Her long, thin legs dangled off the side as she propped her arms on the railing, and Lin sighed deeply, her slanted eyes surveying the little islands dotting the sea, as yellow lights shimmered in the dark haze of night. Unlike most who stared up at the stars to derive hope, Lin stared at those lights, remembering how much she wanted to leave.

"Lin?" She didn't hear Shiomi at first; she was so absorbed in her watching. But when a small hand lit on her bare shoulder blade, shaking it gently, Lin looked around.

Shiomi sat beside her, a slightly concerned look on her round face. Shiomi was the girl who slept on the tatami mat next to hers, and she smoothed down her flowered lavender yukata as she sat on the smooth oak floor.

"Are you alright? Watching that train always makes you so moody."

Lin shook her head. "I hope that girl's alright," she muttered gloomily, her eyes glazing over as golden lights twinkled tantalizingly.

Shiomi wrinkled her nose. "Sen? Well, at least she had the decency to take No-Face with her. Oh, well. It was good of that crazy girl to take the seal back to Zeniba, for Haku if for no one else."

Lin looked up at her, feeling irritation creep up through her back to her mouth. "What do you know about it?" The slightest hint of surliness entered her voice.

"Well, gosh, Lin, everyone knows about it." Shiomi didn't notice the growing darkness coming over Lin's narrow face, and went on, unconcerned. "I'm surprised you aren't more worried about Haku. You two used to be close, didn't you?"

Lin raised her chin from its resting place on the railing. "Keyword 'used to be', not anymore!" she snapped. But her angry voice couldn't mask the hurt that always came with those old memories.

Shiomi bristled at the anger and softened at the hurt. "Calm down." She held up her hands in appeasement, in a tone that was deliberately meant to soothe. The golden lights glittered like broken glass or yellow tears. "I didn't mean to upset you."

The Yuna girl stood up. "Look, Lin, I'm going inside. I'll leave the door open for you."

"Good night."

"You too." Shiomi paused at the shoji door and looked at Lin again. "Don't worry about Sen. Somehow, lunatics are always the ones with the best luck."

Lin smiled bitterly.

For a moment, Lin envied Sen her freedom. She had escaped, for a time. Lin had had dreams other than escape for a time, but it was amazing how the need for freedom blotted out everything else, until the only dream she had left lied in that train moving further and further away from her, and out of her life. Rediscovering her identity no longer seemed quite so important.

Yubaba seemed to have no power over Sen. But then, Lin knew that the only power someone like Yubaba could ever have over someone was the power they let her have, and Lin had given her everything. Lin may have been human once, but now she was only what Yubaba wanted her to be.

Lin could still remember when Haku had come to the bathhouse. She had been there for so long, and had forgotten so much, nearly everything, but she still remembered him when he came.

Haku had stayed down in the boiler room with Kamajii for the first few days; that was how he and Lin had met. Lin had befriended him, helped him slip past Yubaba and the foreman to perform small, menial tasks (for some reason, Haku was determined that Yubaba should not know he was there) as if he was a fully accepted worker there. Stealing worker's clothing from the men's dormitories was a little difficult, but they managed it.

Haku had been kind once. His eyes had been soft and bending. Shiomi was right; they _had_ been close once. Close enough for Lin to confide her dream of leaving, which she hadn't told Kamajii or anyone else; the old man probably wouldn't have come clean with his train tickets if she had said anything to him anyway.

But after he had come to Yubaba's attention, he was never the same again. Haku grew cold, Rin, bitter, knowing that she had been abandoned by her friend. He never treated her the same way again, and Lin was full aware that she should never have trusted the boy. She just knew that she had, that she had cared too much, and it had blown up in her face.

Lin wished she could forget, and wondered if she were to jump off the balcony into the sea, if she would drown or tread water. She was leaning more towards drowning.

Despite what Kamajii or anyone else thought, Lin did know love when she saw it. She could still feel it too. And Lin knew, that love could only ever hurt. It wasn't something she had forgotten, nor was it something she would ever forget, even when she no longer knew even the name Yubaba had given her.

Lin's mouth formed a thin, barely visible line as she stared out at the shallow sea, the moon casting white ripples over the horizon of the water and all of little islands on it.

She had been young once. True, she had not aged a day since entering the bathhouse, but she had once been young, with hopes, dreams beyond freedom and wide, innocent eyes un-jaded and a smile that did not arise of cynicism.

Hope was dead, innocence extinguished, and as for dreams, only one remained.

She had been young once.

It was hard to remember now.


End file.
